


Deeper Magic

by wisdomeagle



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-20
Updated: 2008-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:51:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisdomeagle/pseuds/wisdomeagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forever (from before the dawn of time).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deeper Magic

Forever never was _very_ far away. It lingered in the edges of photograph frames, even after she hid them away in unopened drawers, even after the Valentines were reduced almost to crumbles from rereading, when the Dingoes poster was creased from being folded so long, replaced by zodiac paintings that meant new love. Oz was in every corner, and that kept her heart intact, kept her from caressing the fragments of memory, the last time, the careless way she'd sighed as she took his penis in her, the way her body melted into smiling laughter when he tickled her, the way her skin turned to liquid, yielding and porous, when his tickles became firm strokes, when he touched her with the palm of his hand, inches of skin she'd never known she had until he found them and made them, with an alchemist's grace, as sexy as lips and breasts. When she wore a bikini she felt Oz's eyes on the small of her back, the top of her hip, the back of her knee, and her whole body went red and jittery with being wanted. She held these memories away by memorizing photographs, reducing Oz to the out-of-focus image of a boy with a guitar, perpetually on the verge of hitting a wrong note.

When Sunnydale falls and every memento with it, when Willow's hair goes white and her body limp with the genderless magic that's the deepest sex she's ever felt, the memories of Oz -- the tickle of beard when he licked her pussy, the wolfscars on his chest, the weight of his dick inside her, the way her body felt, soft and vulnerable and shape-shifting when it bent around his -- come back in wildfire rush, hot, bright, liquid, filling her from inside and exploding into blushing, keening bliss and sorrow. Kennedy touches her absent-mindedly, and unlocks the place in her heart that hides _holding hands_ , _kissing my cheek_ , and _birthday teddy bear_. Xander makes a tasteless joke, and she remembers _bending down to kiss my breasts_ , _kneeling to taste his dick_ , _holding hands while making love_. Tears that were stoppered years ago unfreeze, and she remembers like yesterday that Oz left her, and then feels, fingers gentle around her wrist, that he came back.

Kennedy, new and dazzling, knows her happiest and her scariest, but Oz knows her _best_. Oz, somewhere, waiting, has the first fingers that touched her, the first tongue that knew the roof of her mouth and the back of her neck, the underside of her clit and the inside of her pussy, the first ears that heard the crying, whispery sound she makes when she orgasms, the first eyes other than her own that ever saw her naked breasts, and the first heart that looked inside and loved her.

With every mile the ancient bus endures, she's closer to forever.


End file.
